The Urgency of Saving Roe v. Wade

She is sixteen years old and pregnant. Still in school and devoid of job skills, she would not qualify to adopt a child, yet she could be forced to carry the fetus to term.

 She is a mother who wants another child, but in the third term of her pregnancy she learns her fetus has severe organ anomalies and will die soon after birth, but she is denied a late term abortion.

 She is a victim of rape who suffers post-traumatic stress that renders her unable to work, but she will be forced to give birth.

 She has been sexually abused by her uncle for years and is now pregnant by him, but she cannot have an abortion.

 Each of these women represent many others. They are the elephant in the room that no one wants to talk about as the United States moves ever closer to draconian restrictions on abortion, and ultimately the death of Roe v. Wade, the landmark 1973 decision in which the Supreme Court ruled that the Constitution protects a woman's liberty to choose to have an abortion without excessive government restriction. 

 Ever since the Supreme Court’s decision a growing number of states have worked hard to promulgate laws and regulations that limit whether and when a woman can obtain an abortion. Restrictions aimed at reducing abortions are designed to challenge to Roe v. Wade in the hope it will be reversed.  They include such measures as mandating unnecessary physician and hospital requirements, setting gestational limits, preventing so-called “partial birth” (late term) abortion, promulgating funding restrictions, and insisting on state-mandated counseling, waiting periods, and parental involvement.

 But never have we seen abortion restrictions like those that now exist in 45 states, making 2021 a “year that is well on its way to being defined as the worst one in abortion rights history,” as the Guttmacher Institute notes.

 Various state laws from Arizona to Arkansas are a Handmaid’s Tale nightmare, but none are as staggering as the laws in Texas. Beginning in January this year, patients are required to receive state-directed counseling including information designed to discourage abortion, coupled with mandated wait times. There are constraints on various insurance policies including those included in the Affordable Care Act. Parental consent is required, and patients must undergo an ultrasound at least 24 hours before obtaining an abortion while the provide shows and describes the fetal image to the patient.  

 Further, in May, Texas governor Greg Abbott signed a fetal heartbeat abortion bill that bans abortion as early as six weeks, well before most women know they’re pregnant. That bill is scheduled to go into effect in September, although it and many other proposed laws are being challenged in the courts.

 No wonder Texan Paxton Smith, graduating valedictorian of her high school class, found her graduation speech going viral.  With enormous courage, she ‘aborted’ her approved speech and spoke eloquently, noting at the start that the six-week “Heartbeat Act” had just been introduced.

 “I cannot give up this platform to promote complacency and peace when there is a war on my body and on my rights. A war on the rights of your mothers, a war on the rights of your sisters, a war on the rights of your daughters. We cannot stay silent,” she told the crowd, noting that medical authorities have said the fetal heartbeat argument is misleading.

 Shortly after Smith gave her speech, a Spokane, WA newspaper revealed that several months earlier a woman who suffered a miscarriage in a Spokane hotel had been investigated by police who found it suspicious that she did not meet them at the hospital as they had instructed. A search warrant followed because the cops thought she might be guilty of criminal mistreatment of a child. Ultimately the investigation was closed.  But women are actually in jail here and in other countries, charged with feticide following a miscarriage. 

 It doesn’t have to be this way.  There are many models we can look to in which women’s right to exercise control over their bodies is not in the hands of the state. The Netherlands is one such country. Abortion is free on demand there and yet they have the lowest abortion rate in the world, while complications and deaths from abortion are rare. Contraception is widely available and free, and abortion is covered by the national health insurance plan. Sex education starts early, and Dutch teenagers have less frequent sex starting at an older age than American teens; their pregnancy rate is six times lower than ours.

 Why, then, but for Paxton Smith, do we never hear media reports about the critical issue of abortion, which male powerbrokers embrace with the force of institutionalized misogyny? Why does the current administration remain silent on an issue of this import when three quarters of Americans want Roe v. Wade to remain in place, citing it as a key issue affecting who will get their vote? Why is the American public so ready to give up on a fundamental human right that can touch all of us?

 Why, Ms. Smith might well ask, do we stay silent?

 

                                                

 

 

 

The Re-Victimization of Sexual Assault Survivors

The Re-victimization of Sexual Assault Survivors

 

She was 24 years old when she unintentionally killed her stepfather as he attempted to rape her. She had been sexually assaulted by this man from the age of seven. If she told anyone, her abuser said, he would kill her mother.

 

Her name is Teresa Paulinkonis and she was 57 years old when she walked out of a state prison in California in March, her sentence of 25 years to life having been commuted by the governor.

 

Charged with premeditated murder, she spent 30 years of her life as a prisoner. During that time, she earned an Associate’s degree, wrote a memoir, taught classes, counseled others and successfully advocated for incarcerated women, including teenage women sentenced to life without parole for killing their abusers. In effect, she became a self-taught “prison lawyer” as women like her are known for helping gain the release of other incarcerated women. Prison staff have attested to her contributions as a model prisoner.

 

It has been a long journey for this woman of faith who is smart, compassionate, skilled in advocacy and trauma recovery, and perhaps most of all, patient. I know this because I have journeyed with her all those years, first as a correspondent, then as a friend and later as her liaison with dozens of women in her international support group. Although my friend and I have yet to meet face-to-face, I know the facts of her case and the makeup of her character.

 

I also know how she has been treated by the both the legal system and the prison system, both of which re-victimized her repeatedly in various ways.  I know how she persevered as she was denied parole three times, refused an appropriate retrial because perjury was committed during the first trial, by a judge who labeled her a “sociopath” because she told her story calmly. “Too practiced,” he said. “I don’t believe her.” It had taken her almost 25 years to be able to do that as she grew from victim to survivor. I know how strong and resilient she has had to be, and I know how broken and punishing the systems and institutions are that she has had to experience.

 

As she began the next phase of her life in which she hopes to be of service to other incarcerated women, she was once again re-victimized, this time by the media who reported on her commuted sentence.  Without seriously researching the facts of her case and relying solely on the language of the governor’s commutation and old court records, various press reported her release in a way that made her seem monstrous. 

 

She was described as a woman “convicted of bludgeoning her stepfather to death” as he watched TV. Relying on records of her trial in which a hostile relative committed perjury, to which he later confessed, she is said to have poisoned her stepfather, “according to authorities.” That never happened. Quoting the governor’s commutation statement which made no reference to sexual abuse, the media referenced “clemency that does not minimize or forgive her conduct or the harm it caused.” Not one word about the context of the crime. Not one word about her contributions in prison. Not one word about how many people have praised her character and fought so long and hard for her release.

 

For the advocates and lawyers working tirelessly to address sexual assault issues, prison deprivations and punishment (including sexual assault), and powerbrokers in the courts, prisons and other seats of power and misogyny, where largely white, privileged, uninformed male powerbrokers, who have absolutely no idea about women’s lives reign, it is sad, and maddening, to witness media adding to the re-victimization of abused women.

 

Those in a position to pass judgment, make assumptions, toss around unempirical psychological jargon, or do sloppy work make “bad trouble” as the late John Lewis might say. Whether lawyers, judges, doctors, jailers or reporters, most of them know little to nothing about the realities of sexual abuse, its prevalence, or its resultant lifelong trauma, and they show little inclination to learn. The fact is, sadly, they are often among the abusers women fear, and fight back against in order to survive.

 

For incarcerated women survivors of sexual assault like my friend, who are released from long years in prison for killing their abusers, walking out of prison does not always mean walking free. For my friend and many other women like her, the journey continues.

(A full--length feature of this commentary first appeared on Salon,com)

                                                       

 

 

Just published! A 21st Century Plague: Poetry from a Pandemic

Like the Covid-19 virus, poetry related to the pandemic has flourished. This anthology, which I am proud to have conceived and edited, adds to the literature of the pandemic in unique ways, capturing some of the best poetry on the topic in a moving, diverse and empathetic collection that includes noted writers and award-winning poets.

 Contributors are wide-ranging. From well-known writer Marge Piercy to an Irish Franciscan brother, a prison inmate, an Indian poet, a geriatric care nurse, artists and educators, the poetry speaks to challenging times in which we must find our strengths and forgive our foibles.

   There are 53 poets and 70 poems in this collection. Works range from the poignant to the practical. Ginny Lowe Connors writes in “Her Eyes,” about seeing her patients, “Above the mask, behind the face shield, eyes huge, red-rimmed, gritty, glassy.” Brian Daldorph considers “Love in the Time of Plague,” as a couple “sit on the beach together” although “they’ve been told not to do it, to keep distant, to wear protective clothing.” Scholar Rai d’Honore contemplates prior plagues, including “The Black Death … As nasty a death as can be…” Burt Rashbaum remembers being virus exhausted: “The simplest things: do I really need celery, how much dog food is left, is that a dry cough or do I just need a glass of water.”

  The works in this collection bear witness and give universal meaning to shared experience. They help us remember, reflect, reconcile, and rejoice in small pleasures and new insights. They are each a story in verse, carefully composed, to create word monuments that quiet and comfort. In that way, they become gracefully therapeutic and healing while recording for future generations what it was like during a 21st century pandemic.

 “These poems, varied in form and content, beautifully capture the global experience of this pandemic as well as the individual emotions and struggles that are, at the same time, unique and universal: fear, defiance, longing, grief, anger, loneliness, gratitude for time and respite, hope―and often, joy in life's small, continuing gifts. Editor Elayne Clift has gathered a community of poets whose words are haunting, moving, charming, surprising and, finally, comforting.  Reading this anthology, you might find yourself saying, Yes, yes, I understand― I've felt that way too. I'm not alone.”

Cortney Davis, nurse practitioner; author of "I Hear Their Voices Singing: Poems New

Women and War: A Memorial Day Tribute

They were nurses, soldiers, code-breakers, factory workers, resistance fighters, POWs, victims. We should remember them on Memorial Day.

 Women have been warriors throughout history. During the Civil War, they assumed male aliases, wore men’s uniforms, and charged into battle on both sides. Harriet Tubman was a spy then and the first woman to lead a battalion into battle.

 Marge Piercy’s 1980 novel, Gone to Soldiers, revealed many tasks undertaken by women during WWII. Some ferried planes for the Air Force. Others, symbolized by Rosie the Riveter, worked in factories producing war goods. Women served as intelligence officers in Europe and others were social workers helping returning soldiers and their families.

 Nearly 800 women were sent to European warehouses to sort mail addressed to U.S. servicemen.  Major Fannie Griffin McClendon, who joined the Army’s only all black, female WWII battalion, the Six Triple Eight, was one of them, helping to boost morale among service members. She was honored at the Library of Congress in 2019 at the age of 99 when she was featured in the documentary “Six Triple Eight.”

 Many French women, courageous resistance fighters, were sent to concentration camps if caught. One, a young musician, played her violin outside a Nazi camp to sooth captured friends.Some were couriers or took food to Jews in hiding. Others blew up German trains and troops.

 In her book Code Girls, Liza Mundy tells the story of America’s women cryptographers who cracked difficult communication systems. More than 10,000 women were selected for this work. After Pearl Harbor, the military built its intelligence operation by bringing women college graduates in math and science to Washington, D.C. for training. They went on to break codes from merchant ships in the Pacific supplying Japanese troops so the Navy could sink them, and they gave Germans false information about where the Allied landing on D-Day would happen.

 Minnie Vautrin was an American missionary in China during the infamous 1937 Rape of Nanking, when an estimated 80,000 women were brutally violated by Japanese soldiers.  Minnie saved hundreds of girls and women, facing down bayonets at the college she headed. After helping women find their husbands and sons at the war’s end, she returned home where she committed suicide in 1941.

 So called “comfort women,” most of whom were Korean women and girls, were taken as sexual slaves by the Japanese. The horror was an early use of what we now acknowledge as a war crime and it affected 200,000 women and girls.

 In Europe, as Hitler’s “final solution” gained momentum, there were many women who deserve to be memorialized. Among them was Etty Hillesum, often called the mature Anne Frank. Like Anne, she was born in Holland, a Jew and a diarist. She went to Auschwitz because she volunteered to accompany arrested Jews in 1943. She threw a postcard from the train that read “We left the [holding] camp singing.” She died three months later at age 27.

 Back in Asia, Japanese invasions accelerated as people struggled to survive. Among them was Helen Colijn, author of Song of Survival: Women Interned, which became the film Paradise Road. She and other European women trying to get home became prisoners of war on Sumatra. Most of the women died before liberation, including Margaret Dryburgh, who formed the prison choir that kept morale up despite starvation, disease and brutality.

 Another group of amazing women prisoners in the Pacific were 99 Army and Navy nurses later known as “the angels of Bataan and Corregidor.” They were the first unit of American women sent into battle and the only group of American women imprisoned by an enemy. They’d helped build and staff hospitals and pioneer triage nursing in a stifling jungle. At the end of their three-year incarceration, they survived by eating weeds cooked in coldcream. Their story is told in We Band of Angels.  Sadly, they were not fully recognized by the military until 1986.

 The nurses in Vietnam were another “band of angels.” All volunteers, they too were not fully recognized when they came home. One of them, Lily Jean Adams, was 22 when she volunteered.  An ICU nurse, she remembered comforting dying soldiers. “They would say ‘don’t leave me,’ and I wouldn’t.  I sensed it was just as important as taking care of the living.”

 Women in the Gulags of Siberia also struggled to survive as political prisoners during the Soviet Stalinist Era post WWII. Some received 25-year sentences in unbearable conditions. Their stories are told in the book Dressed for A Dance in the Snow.

 Women war journalists have been equally brave and important.  Vera Brittain, Nellie Bly, Margaret Bourke-White and Martha Gellhorn were among them.  They wrote about the trauma of war, especially for women and children, rather than tactical questions and policy disputes, as male journalists did. Theirs were stories of ordinary civilians desperate to survive.

 Today women comprise about 20 percent of America’s military. They are graduating in increasing numbers from our military academies. As Frank Moore wrote in 1866, “The story of the war will never be fully written or understood if the achievements and contributions of women are unrecognized.”

 How right he was.

                                                      

 

  

History as Prologue: The Shadow of a Continuing Crisis

It will come as no surprise that Liz Cheney is not on my short list of politicians I admire or wish to see in Congress. But she has done the right thing in calling out the “big lie” and promising to do all she can to keep Donald Trump away from the White House, literally or in terms of his influence over a terribly broken party. She is a canary in the coal mine. Would that others had the courage to follow suite.  

Most sentient beings on the planet breathed a huge sigh of relief last November when Joe Biden won the presidential election. We were even happier when he and his administration immediately began acting robustly on myriad issues. First came the well-chosen appointments, the flurry of executive orders reversing Trump’s perversities, then the big bills aimed at healthcare, infrastructure, economic recovery, climate change, income inequality, childcare, and more – all of which made Republicans in Congress and their Q-anon conspiracists cringe – and jump into action. 

A majority of states immediately flew into action to bring back Jim Crow with hideous voting rights restrictions. Protesters began to be arrested. Gun violence and hate crimes grew by startling percentages while white supremacist cops kept killing blacks. Arizona decided to hold yet another recount of the election results there, barring journalists from the hanger where counters tried mightily to spot bamboo in the ballots. (Proof that the party has gone crazy.) 

Republicans in Congress began their urgent campaign, articulated by Mitch McConnell, to stop any legislation proposed by the White House or Democrats in the House of Representatives. Ted Cruz, Lindsay Graham, Josh Hawley, and other deranged congressmen went on various rants grounded in lies and nonsense. Rand Paul accosted public health expert Dr. Anthony Fauci, accusing him of funding dangerous research in China (more proof of crazy). Vaccine conspiracies and anti-masking activists got really crazy.

All of this occurred post-January 6th when the unimaginable happened and an insurrection at the Capital that day sent America a clear message:  This country is not out of danger.

The fact is the real and growing possibility of living through the destruction of American democracy is not going away, it is growing. Donald Trump is now viewed as the head of the Republican party as he holds the feet of elected officials to the fire with his fierce, alarming grip on their futures. A significant number of regular Republicans continue to embrace the lies, mantras, and inconceivable theories spewed out daily by Fox News. Insurrectionists crawl out from under their rocks in droves. The Supreme Court is now a quasi-political body with a 6-3 conservative majority.

All this is terrifying in its implications. Like many others now, I grow more and more anxious by the day – so much so that I actually inquired about getting a British passport, which my husband and children hold.  I know that what happened in countries like Turkey, Egypt, Poland, Hungary, and others can happen here.

We are not immune from autocrats and dictatorship and we are not protected by our Constitution if it no long holds meaning for those in power. Our future is riding on the midterm elections next year, and the 2024 presidential election.

If you think I am needlessly hyperventilating, consider this: In 1923 Hitler mounted a failed coup. When he failed, his effort was treated leniently. A decade later he was Germany’s dictator. In 2021 Donald Trump inspired a failed coup. It too has been treated leniently by those who say we “need to move on.” Will he, or his appointed alter ego, be our dictator in less than a decade?

Ece Temelkuran, a noted Turkish journalist, wrote a book in 2019 in which she explains how Turkey’s President Erdogan came to rule that country. The book is called How to Lose a Country: Seven Steps from Democracy to Dictatorship. In the first chapter she writes, “Watching a disaster occur has a sedating effect. As our sense of helplessness grows along with the calamity, [we begin to feel that] there is no longer anything you can do. … global news channels jump in [for] the denouement It has been a long and exhausting [time], unbearably painful. It began with a populist coming to town. … A bleak dawn breaks.”

She goes on to draw comparisons between Turkey and what’s happening in the U.S. and elsewhere that are chilling: “It doesn’t matter if Trump or Erdogan or [the UK’s] Nigel Farage is brought down. Millions of people are fired up by their message and will be ready to act upon the orders of a similar figure. … These minions will find you, even in your own personal space, armed with their own set of values and ready to hunt down anyone who doesn’t resemble themselves.”

Temelkuran points out that this is not something imposed top down or by “the Kremlin. It also arises from the grassroot,” and she says wisely, “it is time to recognize that what is occurring affects us all.”

It is time, indeed, for America to realize what is occurring – and that it will affect us all.

 

How Much Longer Before We End the Massacre of Innocents?

As I watched the flag-draped coffin of the late Billy Evans, the second Capital Police officer to lie in state, descend from the Capital steps, I wept – and wondered how much longer we would find ourselves living in a country that has become so violent.

As I saw the photograph of the deceased Duane Wright holding his one-year old child and heard the wails of his aggrieved aunt, I also wondered how much longer we will go on living in such a violent country.

As I heard witness after witness in the trial of Derek Chauvin, charged with killing George Floyd, I asked myself again:  How much longer must we live with the massacre of black people, mostly men, by aggressive, out of control, incipiently violent police?  

And when I read David Gray’s stunning Facebook post I wondered again how much longer such hideous racist behavior would prevail?

Gray’s post was about his day, one in which he would take all manner of precautions to ensure that he, his wife and his child would make it through another day without being shot by police.  He would, he said, not take public transport. He would not hang an air freshener in his car, and he would double check his car registration status. He would be sure his license plates were visible, he would carefully follow all traffic rules, keep the radio down, forgo stopping at a fast food restaurant, forego prayer, and simply hope to God that his car didn’t break down.

His wife would take another set of precautions when she picked their young child up from daycare. They would not play in a park or go for an ice cream. Once the child was in bed, neither of his parents would leave the house to run errands or jog. “We will just sit and try not to breathe and not to sleep,” Gray wrote. And in everything he and his wife would do or not do, there was a name attached: Lt. Caron Nazario, Philandro Castro, Sandra Bland, Rev. Clementa Pickney, Elijah McCain, Tamir Rice, Ahmaud Argery, Breonna Taylor, and many more because of what had happened to each one of them.

But it isn’t only police violence that makes the burning question linger in my brain and bruise my heart. How much longer, I ask myself over and over again, must we live with so much violence that results in the massacre of the innocents?

Several days before I wrote this commentary a woman in Virginia was killed by a stray bullet. The same day eight people were also wounded by gunfire in a separate shooting, and a mother of six was fatally wounded in North Carolina while on an anniversary trip with her husband, shot in the head in a drive-by shooting in an act of road rage.

How can it be that we live in a country so barbaric that you take your chances just going grocery shopping, attending school, showing up at work, being on vacation, having a night out for drinks or dinner, or standing in your own backyard? How much longer can we live like that?

How did we become a banana republic in which our own house of parliament could be stormed by insurrectionists calling for the death of elected officials and a state congresswoman could get arrested for gently knocking on the governor’s door as he welcomed Jim Crow home? How did we reach the point where Asian Americans are beaten on the streets of America and trans kids are denied health care?  

Gun violence is not only a physical threat. It’s a public health emergency that threatens our emotional well-being and fills us with anxiety. Some of us get emotionally crazy. I actually ask my adult children to text me when they get home from being on the road, walking in the dark, jogging in the park, or working late at night.

According to the Gun Violence Archive as reported by the Washington Post, in 2020, gun violence killed nearly 20,000 Americans, more than any other year in at least two decades. The U.S. experienced the highest one-year increase in homicides since it began keeping records last year, and large cities saw a 30 percent spike in gun violence. Gunshot injuries also rose dramatically, to nearly 40,000.

This year, following the January 6th attack on the Capital, over two million guns were sold in January alone. That’s an 80 percent increase in gun sales and the third highest monthly total on record. All of this while the outdated Second Amendment is invoked in the 21st century, hundreds of years since muskets went out fashion and military weapons became vogue.

Writer Mary McCarthy once said, “In violence, we forget who we are.”  America, it seems to me, need not remember who we are so much; that would reveal the “400 year lie” that current writers admonish us to remember. Instead, America desperately needs to think about what we have become. Only then can the country heal, reinvent itself, and emerge from the darkness that is rapidly enveloping us.  Let us begin with a question: How do we stop the massacre of the innocents?


The Importance of Story in Covid Time

 

It is one year now since Covid first invaded our countries and our bodies. Since then, we have longed for the touch of loved ones, fought off anxiety and despair, adjusted as much as possible to the stunning effects of prolonged isolation, and watched as the numbers of deaths mounted, week by week, state by state, country by country. It was, we agreed, the worst thing we’ve gone through in one hundred years.

 

To mark this dark anniversary, we have seen pictures of those we’ve lost, and heard about them as people and not statistics.  The media has brought many of them into our homes and hearts, respectfully and with feeling.  But it is not often that we’ve heard real stories about the victims of this insidious virus, or their families; the kind of stories drawn from memory that make us laugh, weep, empathize, share sadness, become better people ourselves.  Perhaps stories like that which set a scene, have characters, dialogue, plot lines, and ultimately universal meaning have yet to emerge. I hope they do, because we all have stories to tell, and we all need to stories to hear.

 

That’s because storytelling is primal. It’s the way we come to understand the world around us. Story give us wholeness. It allows us to recover something vital and true in our lives and the lives of others. Stories, as writer Sue Monk Kidd knows, are “the life of the soul.”

 

Telling and hearing stories of how we got through this dreadful pandemic is how we say what happened, with empathy, so that future generations will know what it was like to live in isolation for a year or more, to feel afraid while trying to be brave, to cope, and even to grow because of the shared experience.

 

Storytelling is an essential act of remembrance in which our words build monuments to a time when our lives called upon us to carry on and to endure, to know what really matters, to know what to cling to and what to let go.

 

All of us have a natural instinct toward narratives that reveal the greater truth of what happens on our individual and collective journeys.  Words carefully crafted change our experience and help us arrive at greater truths.  In our tales of Covid time and an adjusted normal all of what we share happened, all of it was true, and all of it matters.

 

In making much of the mundane, we experience our epiphanies, our AHA Moments. We become “gardeners of the spirit who know that without darkness nothing comes to birth,” as May Sarton put it. We are brave in our contemplative experience, and dare “to deal with our bag of fears,” as Eudora Welty said we must.

 

Here is some of my story about Covid, the third in a trilogy of poems that appear in the forthcoming anthology, “A 21st Century Plague: Poetry from a Pandemic.”

“In the beginning, while in survival mode, we masked, distanced, and washed our hands

Like mad Lady MacBeth, hoping the virus would bypass us, lucky ones, untouched, safe, exempt. Then, as the weeks wore on, we found ourselves frayed and frightened,

Anxious and depressed, while the beast grew bolder. Entering crisis mode,

Tempers flared, tears flowed, trips for groceries became a call for celebration,

Haircuts a miraculous event, Release from house arrest.

Precious family and friends, risked distant contact at outdoor lunch.

We Zoomed, FaceTimed, Skyped, vowing to carry on in Covid solitude,

As we awaited the darkness of winter.”

 

Stories are medicine. They give us the power to be soothed and to soothe others. Together we overcome adversity through our transformative experience. In fact, there is no culture on earth that doesn’t tell stories.  Storytelling is as old as humankind. It’s embedded in our genes, often as a survival technique. We are simply hardwired to tell stories and to listen to them. Tell yours, and listen with thanks to the stories of others. You’ll be surprised at how much better you’ll feel.

 

Why Women Whistleblowers Matter

E. Jean Carroll is sticking to her story. She’s the high-profile woman who is suing Donald Trump for allegedly raping her in the 1990s in a posh New York department store dressing room. Twenty-five other women have also accused the former president of sexual abuse and harassment and it’s no surprise that he’s denying all of them. 

Now New York Governor Andrew Cuomo is in trouble. As of March, seven women have accused him of sexual harassment or inappropriate conduct. Lindsey Boylan, a former aide to the governor, was the first to accuse Mr. Cuomo of “creating a culture of "sexual harassment and bullying." As a result of her allegations and others, he faces an independent investigation by  the New York state no-nonsense attorney general Letitia James,  who will lead the probe into the women’s claims. 

But women whistleblowers aren’t just about exposing powerful machismo guys whose view of women resides in sexual fantasies. When Lilly Ledbetter learned that Goodyear, where she worked for nineteen years including as a sole female supervisor, was paying her less per year than men in supervisory positions, she filed a sex discrimination case that she won. However, that judgement was reversed by an appeals court because Goodyear lawyers argued that she hadn’t filed the suit in time. The case went to the Supreme Court where Ruth Bader Ginsberg declared, “Pay disparities often occur, as they did in Ledbetter’s case, in small increments; cause to suspect that discrimination is at work develops only over time.” The case ultimately led to passage of the Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act of 2009, which is still practiced in the breach.

There are many other tales of notable, courageous women whistleblowers, none more well-known than Karen Silkwood, who claimed in the 1970s that Kerr-McGee, where she was a chemical technician, was not maintaining plant safety, and was involved in a number of unexplained dangerous exposures to plutonium. A member of the Oil, Chemical, and Atomic Workers' Union and an activist, she gathered evidence for the Union to support her claims. She subsequently died in an unexplained, highly suspicious car accident.

Less well known are women like Marsha Coleman-Adebayo, a senior policy analyst in the Environmental Protection Agency, who blew the whistle on the EPA for racial and gender discrimination in violation of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 after she was removed from her position in South Africa for bringing to EPA’s attention dangerous conditions in an American company that was exposing African workers to dangerous mining conditions. That case led to passage of the No-FEAR Act in 2002 that made federal agencies more accountable for employee complaints.

In 2005 former chief civilian contracting officer for the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Bunny Greenhouse, exposed illegality in the no-bid contracts for reconstruction in Iraq by a Halliburton subsidiary. The Army then retaliated against her by demoting her and removing her from her job as a high-level contractor. She subsequently testified before the Senate Democratic Policy Committee about her experience.

FBI whistleblower Jane Turner, an agent for 25 years, blew the whistle on the mishandling of child sex crime cases on North Dakota Indian Reservations, for which she was removed from her position. In 2005 a U.S. Court of Appeals upheld Turner’s right to a jury trial against the FBI and the right to monetary damages. Turner also blew the whistle when she witnessed her colleagues stealing items from 9/11 Ground Zero during site inspections. She won a final judgement in 2007 when the Department of Justice vetoed the FBI’s appeal of a jury verdict that found the agency guilty of illegal retaliation against Turner. Her case was used by the U.S. Government Accounting Office and the U.S. Senate in improving the FBI Whistleblower Program.

Cathy Harris, a former U.S. Customs Service employee, exposed racial profiling against Black travelers at Hartsfield International Airport in Atlanta. Her book, Flying While Black: A Whistleblower’s Story, revealed numerous incidents of heinous abuses perpetrated against Black travelers, including body-cavity searches and long detention in local hospitals where they were subjected to bowel monitoring aimed at discovering drugs. Her book also revealed hideous abuses of authority in Customs Service practices and behaviors, including violence, racial and sexual harassment, stalking on and off the job, and a host of other violations and illegalities. 

All whistleblowers are brave people who care deeply about the injustices they witness, experience or learn about. All of them are routinely subjected to humiliation, retaliation, and job loss that can impact their careers in devastating ways. But women whistleblowers often suffer in ways men don’t simply because they are female. They are less likely to be believed and more likely to have their reputations permanently damaged. They are called crazy and tagged as troublemakers. They are treated like pariahs by powerbrokers outside their own organizations because of the truths they tell.

All of that speaks to the courage they display when they risk revealing abuse, corruption, and illegality. It also speaks to why they deserve our respect, and gratitude, because in many instances they may literally be saving our lives.

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Finding Their Voices: Black Women Writers and Literary Truthtellers

 

 

Finding Their Voices: Black Women Writers and Truthtellers

 

 

Last month was Black History Month and this one is Women’s History Month. What better time to honor women of color, who with other female writers, reveal the courage it takes to tell the truth about women’s lives through the written word?

 

The late poet Muriel Rukeyser once asked this now iconic question: “What would happen if just one woman told the truth about her life?”  Her answer was: “The world would split open.” Historically silenced and admonished to be “good girls and fine ladies,” women who took up the pen in past centuries and decades were ignored, trivialized and punished, but many of them bravely broke with convention. Among them were black women writers whose courage, conviction and talent made a difference in a world where words can become verbal monuments.

 

Nineteenth century poet Phyllis Wheatley was born a slave in West Africa and seized at age seven. Luckily her Boston mistress taught her to read and write. At age 13 she published a poem that made her famous.  By the age of 18 she’d written a poetry collection, published in London. In one poem she wrote, “Remember, Christians, Negroes black as Cain, May be refin’d, and join th’ angelic train.”

 

Zora Neale Hurston, a Harlem newcomer in 1925, “knew how to make an entrance.” Rising above poverty, she became the most successful, significant black woman writer of the early 20th century. Writing prolifically in various genre, she is remembered for her 1937 masterpiece, Their Eyes Were Watching God. Sadly, she died in poverty in 1960, age 69, and was buried in an unmarked grave in Florida. Alice Walker placed a marker there, and then resurrected Hurston’s work.

 

Pulitzer Prize winning novelist and poet, Alice Walker, is best known for her 1982 novel, The Color Purple, which explored female African-American experience through the life of its central character, Celie. Walker also wrote about the taboo topic of female genital cutting in her novel, Possessing the Secret of Joy, a tribute to her courage as part of the black feminist movement.

 

Toni Morrison, who died in 2019, saw books as “a form of political action.”  Her first novel, The Bluest Eye, proved the point when it told the story of a young black girl obsessed with white standards of beauty. Her later novel, Beloved, based on a true slave narrative, won a Pulitzer Prize for revealing, through a woman’s life, the evils slavery wrought. In 1993, Morrison received the Nobel Prize for Fiction for “visionary force and poetic import, giving life to an essential aspect of American reality.”

 

In I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou shared the story of being raped by her mother’s boyfriend at age seven. Reading black authors Langston Hughes and W.E.B. DuBois aided her recovery and she became Hollywood’s first female black director. In the 1950s, she joined the Harlem Writers Guild meeting James Baldwin and others. She became a civil rights movement leader, using her pen to write about relevant issues. Later she was the first black woman to have a screenplay produced. She is remembered for writing and reading the inaugural poem “On the Pulse of Morning,” for President Clinton.

 

Audre Lorde was a self-described “black, lesbian, mother, warrior, poet” whose work dealt with the struggles of ordinary people. She championed women breaking their silence, never better than in The Cancer Journals when post-mastectomy, a nurse admonished her for not wearing a prosthesis to help other women’s morale. Who, demanded Lorde, identifying as a warrior against cancer, told Moshe Dayan to remove his eye patch to make people feel better?  She took on racism, sexism, classism and homophobia in her writing and her contributions to feminist theory, critical race studies, and queer theory addressed broad political issues. The iconic activist was the recipient of many awards and honors, and was New York’s poet laureate in 1991-2. She died of breast cancer shortly afterwards.

 

Gwendolyn Brooks, poet, author and teacher, dealt with personal celebrations and struggling people. She was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1950 becoming the first African American to receive the Pulitzer. She was also the first black woman to be a poetry consultant to the Library of Congress, and she served as poet laureate of Illinois. Her work was often political, especially in regard to civil rights. Like Phyllis Wheatley, she was 13 when she published her first poem and was publishing regularly by age 18. She died in 2000.

 

Haitian writer Edwidge Danticat and Nigerian writer Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie deserve attention, among other non-American black women writers. Danticat writes about women’s relationships as well as issues of power, injustice, and poverty, and Adichie is said to be her generation’s Chinua Achebe, another noted Nigerian novelist. Purple Hibiscus, Adichie’s first novel won the Commonwealth Writer’s Prize for Best First Book in 2005.

 

And now comes Amanda Gorman, who read her amazing inaugural poem at President Biden’s inauguration. Her first two books of poetry are already bestsellers before being in print.

 

That’s just a short list of black women writers. Imagine what else there is to discover in their work and that of other female truthtellers. And imagine what else is to come!

 

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Elayne Clift writes (and teaches) from Saxtons River, Vt. www.elayne-clift.com

Building Better Calls For Bold Change

“How Far Should Biden Go?”  a recent piece in The Atlantic asked. The answer, in my opinion, is as far as he and his administration can over the next several years, keeping in mind all that’s on their plate. Atlantic staff writer James Fallow rightly underscored the need for prioritization and triage in planning, quoting the head of Jimmy Carter’s transition team James Watson: “You have to separate what must be done, soon, from all the other things you might want to do later in the administration.”

I’d like to see a number of issues tackled once the Biden administration has dealt with Fallow’s suggested priorities including “reversing the corrosion of the executive branch,” and instituting investigations into the horribly mismanaged Covid crisis, along with border policies that resulted in children being ripped from their parents, and the “negligent destruction of the norms of government, especially “the electoral process.”

It’s the norms of government that concern me most because many of those norms have resided in trusted tradition rather than codified law. That needs to end. Laws must be written that ensure we never reach another breaking point in our democracy.

The electoral process tops the list. As activist Joan Mandle says in a blog, “The lifeblood of our democracy is under threat from big private money in politics. Cynicism about politics and government is rampant.” The Citizen’s United decision by the Supreme Court allowing corporations to spend unlimited amounts of money on campaigns added to that cynicism along with a 2014 a Court decision that raised the limit of individual contributions to parties and candidates to a staggering $3 million, suggesting that “the Supreme Court has declared war on campaign finance reform”.

Pro-democracy movements have struggled to change the way election campaigns are financed in the U.S. for years. One model they look to is the UK’s financing of campaigns. http://www.loc.gov/law/help/campaign-finance/uk.php Since 1883 UK legislation has existed that prevents excessive spending by electoral candidates. Their system regulates campaign financing by focusing on limiting political parties’ expenditures and transparent reporting of donations received and election expenditures.

The Electoral College is another piece of the electoral process that needs revisiting. In short, it needs to be abolished. Designed to keep both small and large states happy in determining who became president, it also reflected racist and misogynist ideologies. Most importantly, it is arguably anti-democratic. We’ve lost two presidents who won the popular vote, Al Gore and Hillary Clinton, making a mockery of the “one man [sic], one vote” theory. Perhaps more alarming is the fact that Donald Trump lost the popular vote by nearly three million votes, yet he won the Electoral College by 74 votes and became president. According to the Brookings Institute, a majority of Americans have long opposed the College. This may be in part because income inequality and geographical disparities across states could mean the College over-represents the views of a small number of people because of its structure, as Brookings Vice President Darrell West points out.

Several other reforms are called for, including term limits for both Congress and the Supreme Court. Proponents of Congressional term limits argue that restricting the time a representative or senator may serve would prevent politicians from amassing too much power, thus become out of touch with their  constituents. Never was this more apparent than in the 116th Congress. (Opponents argue that elections are the way to limit terms but without campaign finance reform that is questionable.)

Advocates for term limits on the Supreme Court argue that the Court has become highly politicized along party lines, making a 5-4 or 6-3 Court dangerously partisan. A multitude of social justice and human rights decisions made by ideologues with lifetime appointments can spell disaster for key issues such as healthcare, reproductive rights, voting and civil rights, and more. Some analysts suggest well-defined 18-year terms as a way of restoring limits to what they call “the least accountable branch of government.” In September 2020 Rep. Ro Khanna (D-CA) introduced a bill establishing staggered 18-year terms for SCOTUS justices.

Presidential pardon power must also be checked. While that power can offer mercy, it has been abused, never more so than by Donald Trump. As Princeton professor Keith Whittington notes, “Future abuses could be remedied through a constitutional amendment that makes explicit a president cannot pardon himself, takes pardons of immediate family members off the table, requires that pardons be issues only after conviction, or that pardons cannot be issued during the lame-duck period after presidential election and before president-elect has been inaugurated.”

Finally, a series of codified laws, which have existed since 2000 B.C.E., the most famous example being the Code of Hammurabi written in 1700 B.C.E., which codified the belief in “an eye for an eye” https://study.com/academy/lesson/codified-law-definition-lesson.html, must replace our trust in tradition if democracy is to prevail and remain sustainable. As the last four years have demonstrated, bipartisan legislation is clearly required and urgently needed.

It’s a tall order, I know, but as James Fallows noted, there is a “never-ending mission of forming a more perfect union.” The time to begin that daunting mission is now.

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Elayne Clift writes about politics, women, and social justice from Saxtons River, Vt.

 

A Mea Culpa to Women Artists

The Boston Museum of Fine Arts dedicates a floor to women’s art. An entire wing of the Brooklyn Museum exhibits feminist art only. At the Baltimore Museum of Art, a year-long program of exhibitions, programs, and acquisitions by female-identified artists is mounted. New York’s Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) showcases printmaker and found artist Betye Saar’s 1969 autobiographical work, “Black Girl’s Window.”

 

These are just a few museums in the U.S. committed to correcting past omissions in terms of acquiring, exhibiting, and honoring women artists. Each was opened last year and each fell victim to anticipated large scale viewing because of shut downs in the face of Covid-19.

 

They were joined by other excited institutions, galleries, and university-based arts venues across the country who worked collaboratively with the Feminist Art Coalition, a grassroots organization, to present a series of concurrent events including exhibitions, performances, and lectures to ensure that women are recognized at the museum level.

 

Internationally, museums including Madrid’s Prado, were also slated to be recognized as they commemorated women’s achievement in art. The historical inequality pervasive in the male-dominated art world was obvious for years at the Prado, but for its 200th anniversary the museum featured two overlooked 16th century female painters. Elsewhere in Europe, last year saw major exhibits of women’s art.

 

All that activity reflected progress, but there are still issues to be addressed when it comes to women in the arts. Just two years ago 96 percent of artwork sold at auction was by male artists and only 30 percent of artists represented by commercial galleries in the U.S. were women. A survey of permanent collections in 18 major art museums in America conducted at the same time found that out of over 10,000 artists, 87 percent were male and 85 percent were white. Only 27 women out of 318 artists are represented in the 9th edition of Janson’s Basic History of Western Art, up from zero in the 1980s.

 

Against that backdrop, the work of the Boston Museums of Fine Art (MFA) in recognizing women’s overlooked place in art, and its public mea culpa, was significant. Its extensive third-floor exhibition of women’s art, “Women Take the Floor,” offered a stellar showcase of women’s art that sought to “acknowledge and remedy the systemic gender discrimination found in museums, galleries, the academy and the marketplace, including the MFA’s inconsistent history in supporting women’s art.”

 

The various exhibit spaces included paintings, sculpture, prints, photography, jewelry, textiles, ceramics and furniture, all created by women artists, some recognized and others whose work has been obscured.  Exhibits themes ranged from Women Depicting Women, Women on the Move: Art and Design, Beyond the Loom: Fiber as Sculpture, Women Publish Women: The Print Boom, and Women of Action.

 

“Our goal was to celebrate the strength and diversity of work by women artists while also shining a light on the ongoing struggle that many continue to face today. This is a first step,” Nonie Gadsden, a senior curator who led a cross-departmental team of curators in organizing “Women Take the Floor,” said.

 

Also noteworthy was the Baltimore Museum of Art (BMA) exhibitions, programs and acquisitions by female-identifying artists that took place throughout 2020 in conjunction with the 100th anniversary of women’s suffrage in America. “2020 Vision” encompassed 16 solo exhibitions and seven thematic shows. The “2020 Vision” project was part of the museum’s ongoing commitment to addressing race and gender diversity gaps within the museum field, and to represent fully and deeply the spectrum of individuals that have shaped the trajectory of art. 

 

The recognition of women artists didn’t take place in a vacuum.  Advocates, activists and feminist art critics worked for decades to make it happen. None is more respected than the late Linda Nochlin whose pioneering essay, “Why Have There Been No Great Female Artists?” published in 1971 was groundbreaking.

 

Then there are the Guerilla Girls, a group of feminist activist artists who wear gorilla masks and remain anonymous as they work internationally mounting street projects, postering and stickering wherever they find discrimination, gender and ethnic bias, and corruption.  Last year, with help from Art in Ad Places, they placed a poster on a phone booth in front of MoMA in New York calling out the museum for its ties to sex offender the late Jeffrey Epstein and other big donors. They’ve also reframed Linda Nochlin’s critical question. “Why haven’t more women been considered great artists throughout western history?”

 

Susan Fisher Sterling, director of the National Museum of Women in the Arts (NMWA) in Washington, DC, founded more than 30 years ago, may have the answer. “Museums, in general, mirror the power structures in our society, structures that in the arts privilege the history of white men’s accomplishments.” NMWA is the only major museum in the world solely dedicated to celebrating the achievements of women in the visual, performing, and literary arts. The museum honors women artists of the past, promotes women artists in the present, and assures the place of women artists in the future.

 

Let’s hope that these important exhibitions can be viewed and appreciated post pandemic. Surely, women artists have been invisible far too long to be brought down by a nasty virus.

 

Time to Recover and Safeguard Our Future

Finally, Donald Trump is gone from the White House. The time to hope that democracy can prevail is back, however challenging, in view of the shocking events that took place at the Capital. As we begin the hard work of moving forward and restoring faith in America, we can work toward a hopeful and secure future, despite the continuing pandemic and a plethora of political travesties, including possible widespread collusion that runs deep and wide.

 

The task of undoing the legacy of disasters we inherited after four years of ignorant, destructive, Draconian policies and actions, and an attempted coup, is Herculean. All that we have endured during the Trump administration was perpetrated by a monumentally corrupt administration devoid of human instincts and moral behavior. It will be hard to clean up the mess. In the words of a New York Times editorial last month, “Corruption and abuse of power are the most urgent issues in need of addressing.”

The effects of years of corruption and abuse are hideous and potentially long lasting. Many of them are addressed in the Protecting Our Democracy Act introduced by House Democrats last September. A landmark, comprehensive package of reforms, the Act was designed to “Prevent Presidential Abuses, Restore Our System of Checks and Balances, Strengthen Accountability and Transparency, and Protect our elections.” It’s worth reading.

Among the damage we must now address are four troubling issues. The first involves two women, one brilliant, the other potentially vicious.

 

Ruth Bader Ginsberg was a legal genius. The victories she achieved while on the Supreme Court are legendary. She argued six critical cases before the Supreme Court, winning five of them.  On the Court she helped win landmark decisions that changed the face of America for the better.

 

Compared to RBG, Amy Coney Barrett is a lightweight, demure but deadly, given her proclivity for taking the country backwards. Her legal experience and history hardly qualify her for a seat on the Supreme Court. She has none of the experience that leads to the Court, and almost no experience practicing law.

The point of this comparison is that we stand to lose every advancement in civil society that RBG helped effect only to see our country returned to a time when racism and misogyny prevailed – unless we balance the Supreme Court by adding new appointees and end the flood of unqualified conservative judges to Federal benches.

The second abhorrent legacy of the Trump administration is the plight of children torn from their mothers, forever psychologically damaged by unspeakable evil. Who can bear to see the faces or hear their cries from abusive camps? How can we not weep for for what the Trump administration did in America’s name? What reparations will be sufficient for incarcerated children denied decent food, medical care, human touch, and a bed? What can be said of a boy who couldn’t stop crying and was mocked by guards laughing at distraught toddlers. What will soothe the parents of children who died in custody?

How do we repair this crime against humanity, this unbearable cruelty? How do we remove the stain of our country’s sin? Perhaps arresting the architect of this atrocity, Stephen Miller, former Attorney General Jeff Session, and other government officials who sanctioned ripping kids, including nursing infants, away from their parents would be a good start. Shutting down ICE is another.

Then, there is the stain of our extraordinary Covid crisis, a killer virus that was ignored, dismissed, and inflamed by our own Super Spreader, whose ignorance, contempt for science, lies, and politicization of a public health emergency led to the world’s worst infection rate and tens of thousands of excruciating, unnecessary deaths, massive family trauma, and a collapsed economy. I believe the Trump administration’s lack of an urgent response to the pandemic can legitimately be viewed as negligent homicide for which he and his enablers must be held accountable.

 Finally, and especially in view of recent events, underpinning everything else for which we must atone is the damage done to our democracy, which once offered a beacon of hope around the world, Gone, too, is the respect global leaders held for us as a nation, now mocked and reviled.  The blindfolded Lady Justice and the robed Roman goddess Libertas atop the Statue of Liberty must have wept for all that had been lost and must now, somehow, be restored. Will we again open our arms to “[the] tired, [the] poor”? Will we “lift [our] lamp beside the Golden door,” free of our national shame?

 

It will take years, perhaps decades and new generations, to bring us back from the brink, to serve justice, to commit to human rights for all, to embrace our common humanity, to behave responsibly, to reject the underbelly of a nation that showed itself to be undeniably racist, homophobic, anti-Semitic, and Islamophobic as well as so terrified of women that it tried desperately to control our bodies. 

 

Dare we hope that we can do the hard work required of us? Can we truly commit to never subjecting ourselves, our progeny, or our country to another national nightmare? Are we capable of changing our children’s legacy?

 

Can we agree that anything else is unthinkable?

 

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Elayne Clift writes from Saxtons River, Vt.  www.elayne-clift.com

Why Are Powerful Women So Frightening?

For First Lady Hillary Clinton it was wearing hairbands. Michelle Obama bared her arms, which (white) First ladies had done before her. First Lady Jill Biden, who earned two Masters degrees and a Ph.D. in Education was condemned by a Wall Street Journal writer whose sole academic achievement is an online Bachelor’s degree. He thought Dr. Biden presumptuous for being addressed as Dr. Biden, calling her “kiddo” and “Dr. Jill” instead.

As each of these women gained political legitimacy the insults escalated.  Clinton was called “messy, explosive, and politically clumsy” early in her political career by a pundit who conceded she was “formidable.” By the time she told the Chinese government that women’s rights were human rights at the 1995 Fourth World Conference on Women in Beijing, she’d been labeled “unlikeable” at home. Still, she proved herself an effective Senator and Secretary of State before winning the popular vote for president in 2016.

Michelle Obama, now arguably the most popular woman in America, suffered not only misogynist attacks, but racist ones as well. “Women endure these cuts in so many ways that we don’t even notice we’re cut,” she told an audience of young women after leaving office. “We are living with small, tiny cuts, and we are bleeding every single day. The shards that cut me the deepest were the ones that intended to cut,” she said, including being referred to as an ape.

Now comes Vice President Kamala Harris, the first black and South Asian woman to be one breath away from the presidency. Called “too ambitious,” for demonstrating self-confidence in the ability to lead, she “rebukes news stories that treat her successes as evidence against her elevation,” as Megan Garber pointed out recently in The Atlantic. Harris has also been called “not loyal and very opportunistic,” “too charismatic,” “dominant,” and someone who “can rub people the wrong way.”

As a 2019 Huffington Post story noted, “Half the Men in the U.S. Are Uncomfortable with Female Political Leaders.” 

It’s not only in political spheres that women who exert their intelligence, agency, aspirations and innate power are trivialized, mocked and pilloried. A cursory look at women’s history reveals how endemic the fear of women has always been.

A fascinating theory of why women became objects of fear looks to an early agrarian time when men were warriors and women were gatherers and growers.  Their respective roles were honored equally.  But unlike men, women could bleed and not die. They could bring forth life. It was a mystery that became frightening as life became nomadic and men fought for land and commodities. One of those commodities was women, who were strangely powerful.

During the Industrial Revolution, as women became workers, began earning money, and sought to have fewer children, they started asserting themselves, leading to the historic question, “What are we going to do about the women?”

History is rife with examples of misogyny whenever men felt threatened by women. The popularity of midwives in the 19th century became threatening to the male medical establishment when doctors realized there was money to be made if they treated childbirth as a disease. The result was dramatically higher maternal mortality.  Nurses were recruited as lesser beings as an 1890s British manual reveals. “The best nursing girl is one who is tall, strong, and has a suppleness of movement. One who plays lawn-tennis, who can ride, skate and row, makes the best material. If she can dance, it is a great advantage …” A 1901 AMA statement added, “Nurses are often conceited and unconscious of the due subordination owed to the medical profession, of which she is a useful parasite.”

The male literary world’s fear of writing women was abetted by Freud who labeled their work a hysterical preoccupation with memory, thus a disease. A reviewer reacted to Vera Britton's wartime autobiography with this: "An autobiography! But I shouldn't have thought anything in your life worth recording!' And writer Gerald Manley Hopkins claimed that the pen was “a kind of male gift."

Then there were Rosie the Riveters in WWII. Provided with childcare and earning their own money, they were denied both when Johnny came marching home again.

Examples like these abound, Twenty-first century psychology articles still claim that pursuing power, especially in politics, “may signal an aggressive and selfish woman” who foregoes “prescribed feminine values of communality.”  In other words, a woman’s job is to stay home, stay quiet, and volunteer.

Geraldine Ferraro was onto this schtick when she ran for Vice President and was called “too bitchy” by George H.W. Bush’s press secretary. So are women like Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez who was called a “fucking bitch” by a House colleague on the Capital steps. “Our culture is so predicated on diminishing women and preying on our self-esteem, it’s a radical act to love yourself,” she proclaimed.

Women like Vice President Harris aren’t having it. After her nomination, she told a group of teenage girls to be ambitious without apology. The reaction of one of them was captured by Megan Garber in The Atlantic. Men “don’t fear Senator Harris for her ambitions,” she said. “They fear her because of a generation of Black girls who are watching and who will follow her example to pursue excellence.”

That’s one smart girl, and likely future politician.

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Elayne Clift is a writer in Saxtons River, Vt. She has taught Women’s and Gender Studies at various colleges in the US and abroad.  www.elayne-clift.com

 

 

 

 

 

What's Missing in the Fight Against Covid-19?

 

Back in the 1970s, the National Institute of Health (NIH) launched a famously successful campaign designed to reduce heart disease, the nation’s number one cause of death, by convincing the public to stop smoking and start exercising. Employing a variety of media channels through which to promote behaviors shown to support heart health, their message was simple: heart disease is a silent killer, but with some basic lifestyle adjustments, you can significantly reduce your risk of dying from it.

 

In addition to traditional media outlets, the Institute’s initiative, known as the Stanford Heart Disease Prevention Program, relied on interpersonal communication techniques used by local opinion leaders and public figures to move people from awareness to behavior change. (“Do it for the loved ones in your life.”) Several years later, the number of smokers and smoking-related deaths had decreased dramatically. To this day, the Stanford Program remains a model of Health Communications.

 

Shortly afterwards, the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID) funded an international health communication program aimed at child survival in 12 countries. Known as the HEALTHCOM Project, it used similar strategies as the Stanford Heart Disease Prevention Program—straightforward, evidence-based public messaging—to prevent child deaths from diarrheal dehydration and to promote child immunization. 

 

In Gambia, a village-level education program reinforced by radio messages, graphic design materials, and trained village volunteers who motivated families to use a simple oral rehydration solution (ORS) through interpersonal support, child survival rates quickly rose. In the Philippines, the project worked creatively with the Ministry of Health and an ad agency to develop engaging mass media messaging at both the national and local levels that promoted both oral rehydration and immunization. And in Honduras, “Dr. Salustiano” delivered radio messages to mothers about immunization and ORS,

 

So, what has all this got to do with the Covid-19 pandemic?

 

Today, the disease may be different, but the groundwork for beating Covid-19 through behavioral change has already been laid. Health communications would go a long way towards containment, including targeted media placements tailored for local belief systems and cultural practices. But regardless of geography, just as in the ‘80’s these strategies would share elements of a finely honed, partnership-driven methodology grounded in the use of bottom- up communication that always begins with understanding what people want, what they resist, and why.

 

History shows us that successful mitigation of health crises is achieved by a multidisciplinary team of specialists including public health professionals, psychologists, media gatekeepers, and instructional design experts. Joining forces with health communication practitioners, together they conduct research, design focus groups, and create regionally appropriate, meaningful communications that not only address the immediate concern, but also become essential to long-term health education.

 

Back in the not-so-distant pre-Trump administration days, the field of health communications flourished in research settings, while agencies like the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) had robust health communications departments that designed campaigns to raise awareness and foster behavior change around such crises as HIV/AIDS, Ebola, SARS, and more.

 

They recognized that carefully chosen public health spokespeople were key partners. When Dr. C. Everett Koop, then U.S. Surgeon General, served as the nation’s trusted messenger for the Stanford Heart Disease Prevention Project, he quickly became a household name and helped change social norms around smoking in dramatic ways that still prevail.

 

Today, when Dr. Anthony Fauci speaks, most people listen. Yet, Donald Trump chose to rid himself of an expert public health team and to de-staff the health communications arm of the CDC and other relevant agencies. In this wilderness of disinformation, Dr. Fauci alone can’t be expected to shoulder the burden of public education. And while no one would dream of having a pandemic team without epidemiologists, the Trump task force, such as it was, included no communications, social marketing, or media expertise. That is a travesty the Biden task force must remedy.

 

 Behavior change critical to reducing the spread of Covid-19 is complex. Overcoming mask resistance—and soon, resistance to the new vaccine—is a huge challenge. But simply showing bar charts and graphs, holding talking head updates, and spewing overwhelming numbers will not affect behavior.

 

Creative epidemiology might.  “Over 1,000 people are dying every day of Covid. That’s equivalent to three jumbo jets crashing every day.”  Revealing a graphic number of jets that went down, metaphorically, every day could raise awareness about one’s responsibility during a catastrophic pandemic. Demonstrating a dialogue in which one person gets another one to accept that masks save lives could provide a learnable moment.

 

Meanwhile, today’s creative media environment is still waiting for us to take advantage of its offerings. T-shirts, billboards, and social media influencers spreading salient messages based on behavioral and attitudinal research—empower people to change the outcome of a deadly pandemic.

 

It may be too late to save lives lost unnecessarily to this dangerous virus, but it’s not too late to prevent further tragedy. We must do it for the loved ones in our lives.

 

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Elayne Clift has an M.A. in health communications. As Deputy Director of the HEALTHCOM Project during its initial years she worked in all regions of the world and taught Health Communications at the Yale University School of Public Health.

 

 

Escaping the Other Pandemic

The sigh of relief was heard resoundingly worldwide. After almost a week of nail-biting anxiety a majority of Americans elected new leadership that we could trust to pull us back from the brink. Suddenly it no longer felt like the earth had rolled off its axis and was tilting dangerously to the right.

 As people gathered in front of the White House and in streets across the country, dancing, hooting, weeping, it became clear that individually and together we had not quite acknowledged to ourselves the depth of our despair, and our fear. Once the election was called, we realized what had been tamped down for four years. Like the liberation of Europe from a terrifying Nazi regime at the end of WWII, Americans understood that we had barely crawled out from under the boot of our own homegrown mad dictator.

 Sadly, others are not so lucky. Across the globe the earth continues tilting right as autocratic regimes rise. Many people are living in fear and deprivation with little hope. Their futures look bleak as dictators become entrenched or rise anew.

In the Philippines, for example, the maniacal dictator, Duterte, sends a chilling reminder of what total control by a madman looks like. He has established death squads in the name of fighting a drug war and he controls all of public administration leaving no checks and balances in place. The military, judicial and legislative branches of government are fully in his control and he recently shutdown the major media outlet, ABS-CBN, the largest and oldest broadcaster in south-east Asia, just when Filipinos need reliable information about COVID-19.  

Hungary’s dictatorial prime minister Viktor Orban saw the country’s rating downgraded to “partly free” due to “sustained attacks on the country’s democratic institutions,”  as one think tank put it. Over the past decade, the watchdog added, Orban’s party “has used its parliamentary supermajority to impose restrictions on or assert control over the opposition, the media, religious groups, academia, NGOs, the courts, asylum seekers, and the private sector.”

Another Eastern European country, Poland, is also seeing increasing autocratic leadership.  The presidential election in July was decided by a slim margin that split the country in two when incumbent President Andrzej Duda won a narrow victory for the 'Law and Justice' party. Duda is rabidly homophobic and misogynist. His campaign relied on religious animosities between the conservative Catholic Church and more liberal Catholics and secular Poles.  Recently Poland’s abortion laws, already some of the strictest in Europe, were further tightened making abortion virtually unattainable. Polish women made international news when they took to the streets forcing the government to delay implementing the court ruling.

Both Turkey and Egypt have experienced repressive regimes in recent years. Under emergency policies in Turkey promulgated by Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, crackdowns on political opposition, academia, media and civil society occur regularly. In Egypt President Abdel Fattah el-Sisi’s autocratic style is reminiscent of longtime dictator Hosni Mubarak. Under Sisi’s leadership security services crack down on all forms of dissent, detaining and torturing political opponents in large numbers. A new House of Representatives was seated in 2016 and promptly passed numerous laws restricting political activity and formalizing government control over protests, media, and certain organizations.

Brazil serves as an example of autocracy in South America. President Jair Bolsonaro has created a totally dystopian society. According to the Globe Post “Since taking office in 2016 he has done everything he can to undermine the Brazilian Republic as he carries out his mission to destroy everything he believes was built by the ‘left.’ He undermines, defunds, or simply closes down any public agency that has been constituted to control civic life and the norms that rule social life.”

Even in India, a longstanding democracy, the government has tried to stifle protests and preventive detention without trial is increasing  The state can now unilaterally declare someone a terrorist and imprison them. Some human rights activists have been incarcerated as terrorists and others have been warned to stop their activities. Muslim rights have been eroded despite a long history of peaceful co-existence with Hindus.

 For people living in countries like these the political pandemic is as dangerous and potentially deadly as the one we are facing in this public health crisis. As in the Covid pandemic, survival is more likely if citizens are educated and take adequate precautions to prevent contamination. In Covid we need to mask. To avoid autocracy we need to vote. 

 How lucky we are that Joe Biden’s victory signaled a new “Morning in America.”  But democracy is always fragile and we clearly have “miles to go before we sleep.”  The challenges before us, the hard work to be done, the healing and re-visioning of a humane and just future, will not be easy. The work will never be altogether finished. We are unlikely to achieve total unity.

 But in the dawning of a new day, we can breathe again. We can weep openly in gratitude, join hands in renewed hope, and be proud once more of who we are, individually and as an imperfect but ever-growing nation. “Oh, what a relief it is!”

 

                                                                   

Enablers, Collaborators, and a Mussolini Moment

 

It started with a ride down an escalator. And it’s been escalating ever since. From the first cries of rapists invading our country to dog whistles like “Stand back, stand by” Donald Trump’s dangerous delusions of power and control have brought this country to the brink of collapse, and everyone who has allowed that to happen is an enabler and a collaborator.

From White House cronies who share in Trump’s power fantasies and who are incapable of running a government especially  during a crisis, to his equally evil children, to Republicans in the Senate led by Mitch McConnell, to America’s attorney general, to the doctors at Walter Reed who agreed to lie for the president and to sign non-disclosure agreements thereby violating their Hippocratic oath, to the ICE bullies who separated infants and children from their parents and put them in concentration camps, to the heads of the CDC and FDA who caved after White House pressure, they are all responsible for the rise of autocracy, and increased violence.

They are also responsible for militias that now feel emboldened in their militarism and for bad cops who mercilessly shoot to death Black and Brown men and women. They are responsible for the resurgent KKK and they are responsible for federal courts being packed with ultra-conservative, lifetime judges, as well as for a Supreme Court that is eager to see the original Handmaid added to their ranks. In short, they are responsible for the destruction of democracy.

They are why we are on the edge of a truly great depression, and why America has lost its standing in the world. They are responsible for the disasters in our health, education, and infrastructure systems, for the filth in our water and the comeback of chemicals in our food. And they are responsible for the deaths of over 100,000 Americans who died needlessly because the Super Spreader in Chief just didn’t give a damn.

Indeed, they are responsible for the Mussolini Moment on the balcony of our dictator’s palace, and they, like him, bear some of the guilt for negligent homicide and crimes against humanity.

They are also examples of “the banality of evil” that philosopher Hannah Arendt warned us about when she reported on the trial of Adolph Eichmann after the Holocaust. Eichmann was, he said, simply following orders. 

So were the White House staff, the Secret Service men who vow to give their life for the president, but not in a hermetically sealed vehicle, the employees of government agencies who didn’t speak up or quit their jobs in order to save this country, the business moguls who didn’t end their major donations to a corrupt fraud, Fox News who wouldn’t stand up to a lunatic when he blamed everyone else for our disasters and incited violence. So too are the voters who inexplicably still stand with their man even though everything he does hurts them the most.

Every one of these people is the banality of evil personified. And every one of them became what Arendt called a “leaf blowing in the whirlwind of time.” Now every one of them bears responsibility for what lies ahead for us all.

Of course, some brave souls did stand up to the president. And everyone of them did it knowing that they would be punished mightily.  Think about Col. Vindman, and the others who gave testimony to Congress, the lawyers and doctors who wrote letters and petitions, and the activists who marched and were willing to suffer the consequences, including injury, arrest and jail time. They are our national heroes in this moment, the ones for whom new monuments should be built when this nightmare ends.

As for the rest of us, we must remember and own the fact that a great malignancy metastasized within our national body and many of us let it happen. We watched it ravish us and slowly terrorize us. We let it kill people we knew and loved. We looked the other way, always sure that it couldn’t get worse.

Now we need to understand that the “silence of one good man” can spell disaster for all good people. Each of us who remained passive as our impending disaster continued might have been the one “good man” who didn’t act, didn’t speak out, didn’t resist, while men like Jeff Sessions and Donald Trump insisted that infants be ripped from their mothers’ breasts. Men who didn’t care that innocent people were dying from gun violence, a plague, hunger, and violence, which they fostered. Men who didn’t care about pre-existing conditions or elders who rely on Social Security to survive. Men who didn’t care that women would be catapulted back to the Dark Ages.

Now the question is why didn’t we stop them sooner? Why didn’t we act in bigger, more effective, timely ways? Why did we let them continue for four devastating years, like the blind, chained inhabitants of Plato’s allegorical cave who were unable to escape their isolation because, trapped by ignorance and darkness, they couldn’t know the truth?

Can we now remove our blinders and see clearly the dawning truth in time to break our silence, reject the banality of evil, refuse to be a leaf blowing in the whirlwind of time?

What awaits us if not?

 

                                                            # # #

 

Surviving the Fire Within

 

Some of us have heartburn. Others feel nauseous or sick to their stomach. A few experience a chronic pain in the neck, while sleep escapes us and night terrors abound. We are irritable and angry, sad and scared, quietly terrified, and decidedly depressed. We weep easily and work to keep anxiety at bay. 

 

These are just a few of the somatic and psychological symptoms our shared stress serves up as we try to survive in an era of Covid isolation, massive political crime and corruption, the unimaginable possibility of living in a dictatorship, and natural and man made disasters, all of which suggest a doomsday future and an atmosphere of lonely despair.

 

I simply cannot fathom losing one’s home and possessions under an ominous orange sky amid encroaching showers of sparks, on top of our shared calamities.  I can’t imagine living in Beirut, or a refugee camp that disappears overnight, or a detention center defined by inhumane loneliness. It’s hardly bearable to forego seeing one’s children or hugging a friend, or losing one.

 

Nor can I begin to know what it feels like to be a doctor, nurse, or other healthcare provider, hospital worker, ambulance driver, EMT, “essential worker” putting herself on the front lines day after day after exhausting day. What does it feel like to watch a person die alone, with only your gloved hand to hold? What goes through your head when you drive a refrigerator truck to a funeral home?

 

Moving stories of courage, creative interventions, and acts of love, even among strangers, abound to counteract these experiences of human suffering.  We need that antidote. That’s why it is important that we share the stories of both those who succumb and those who remain strong, and that we put a human face on this time of trauma and tragedy.

 

We need to know what the lost child looked like, what the grieving spouse said, what the lover feels. Their lost loved ones are not simply statistics. They were real people with real life stories whose pain in this moment is more than anyone should have to bear.  Like the fallen on 9-11, their lives had meaning, promise, hope. In their memory, we need to offer acts of kindness every day, and to receive such acts with grace. It’s also why we need to share our own emotional suffering with those who can offer us solace and validate the normalcy of our emotions in this oh, so trying time.

 

It would not be quite so difficult if it were not for the fact that thousands of lives were needlessly lost, if we were not a leaderless nation on the brink of collapse, if there were less hatred and violence in our midst, if the natural world were not screaming for help, if we had reason to believe that current events were a bizarre anomaly, a blip on the screen, a fluke. But sadly, the convergence of events feels like foreshadowing. It’s a clarion call, and if we don’t respond quickly and appropriately, there will be no turning back, no end of suffering, no metaphorical blue skies, no more time.

 

Still, if we are to defeat the fires, real and symbolic, destroying our world, and overcome the fires burning like brazen acid within our breasts such that they rob us of peace of mind and threaten our remnants of hope, we must carry on, together and alone. Each of us is called upon to rise every morning, to give solace where it is needed, to ask for help when that is needed as well. We must do what we can to save each other from the flames of despair, whether that be carrying water from the well, climbing the mountain of Martin Luther King, Jr, caressing a frightened child, cooking for the homeless, casting our vote no matter the obstacles,  marching and making good trouble in memory of John Lewis, in short, being fully human in a seemingly inhumane and inhospitable world.

 

Although things have never seemed as bad as they are now in this confluence of tragedies, we have come through hard times before. We have survived them, flawed and tattered, but ultimately and fragilily intact.  Now we are called upon to do more than survive. We are called to rebuild, restore, re-imagine, not just in the space we occupy, but in all the spaces of the world.

 

We must understand that we are all part of the Family of Humankind, and that it falls to our generations and to each of us to care about that family, to honor and respect it, to join in its hope and possibility, to open doors to our shared future as we close the portals of past pain and degradation.

 

It starts now, for time is running out, and “if not us, who? If not now, when?”

 

                                                            # # #

 

Elayne Clift writes from Saxtons River, Vt.  www.elayne-clift.com

 

  

 

 

 

Standing Up to Sterilization, Eugenics, and the Abuse of Women

“Keep your hands off my uterus!” That’s an often-repeated placard and plea at women’s marches I’ve attended over the past forty years. In the U.S. and abroad, it’s a common, continuing refrain because government sanctioning of abuse of women’s bodies has been occurring since well before the Second Wave women’s movement exposed it in the 1970s.

 

I worked in the women’s health movement then alongside Our Bodies, Ourselves and other national organizations. One of the myriad issues we dealt with was the sterilization of poor, black and brown women.  We helped raise awareness of the medical abuse of Puerto Rican women that resulted in a third of women of reproductive age being sterilized for decades at clinics often funded by the U.S. government. In the 1960s women in Puerto Rico were also the subjects of birth control pill trials, without their consent. Those who became pregnant on placebos were offered no help, financial or otherwise, and were forced to carry resulting pregnancies to term.  

 

Another frequent abuse women of color faced was the lack of real informed consent. It can hardly be considered consent when you are asked to sign a paper in English and your only language is Spanish, or you are asked by the nice doctor if you’d like to stop having babies after you’ve just endured a long, arduous labor.

 

There is a long, ugly history of abusing and using women’s bodies by way of coercion and for experimentation. Dr. J. Marion Sims, know as the father of gynecology, practiced medicine in Alabama from 1835 to 1849. During that time, he conducted hideous experiments, without any anesthesia, on enslaved women he had purchased in the 1840s. At an annual convention of the American Public Health Association in the late 1970s his portrait was still on display – until enraged women demanded that it be taken down and never shown again.

 

Affluent white women were often subjected to having their ovaries removed in the second half of the 19th century if they were deemed to be overly sexual. This practice coincided with the belief that if women used their minds too eagerly, their uteruses would atrophy, denying them the God-given role of child bearers.

 

Medical abuse was further embraced in the early 20th century when eugenics was popular, with the growth of programs that coerced women to be sterilized if they did not willingly consent. As Alexandra Stern, author of Eugenic Nation, points out, sterilization was viewed as part of a “necessary public health intervention aimed at protecting society from deleterious genes…” This mindset prevailed late into the century. My friend’s daughter, who was mentally impaired, was subjected to sterilization in the 1970s as part of her care plan.

 

Some states, like California, passed laws that resulted in thousands of residents being sterilized for decades (including some men). Even as late as 2010 the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation had sterilized 150 women in four years. Richard Nixon, a Californian, significantly increased Medicaid funding for sterilization of poor Americans with an emphasis on people of color.

 

Let us remember, medical historians remind us, that eugenics policies in the U.S. aimed at those considered too mentally defective to reproduce, are credited with becoming models for Nazi Germany.

 

One of the saddest stories of a black woman being sterilized during her childbearing years is that of civil rights activist, Fannie Lou Hamer. She had a hysterectomy without her consent in 1961 while undergoing minor surgery for removal of a benign tumor. She spoke about her experience as a Black woman who had been subjected to what was known as a “Mississippi appendectomy,” when women were taken to local clinics and sterilized.

 

Now comes Dawn Wooten, a courageous nurse, who revealed that women in an ICE detention center in Georgia, run by a private prison company, had an outside doctor perform hysterectomies on them when they complained about non-threatening reproductive health issues. Many of the women who experienced major surgery awoke to find that they had had their reproductive organs all or partially removed without their prior knowledge or consent. Most were still of childbearing age and most had no idea why they had undergone the procedure.

Pauline Binam, 30, was one of them. She was being quickly deported by ICE to Cameroon, which she left at age two. Binam, now 30, was on the tarmac when members of Congress including Rep. Shirley Jackson Lee intervened to keep her in the U.S.  Binam's lawyer has said her client thought she was getting a routine procedure last year, but "when she woke up from surgery, the doctor informed her that he had to remove one of her fallopian tubes."

Imagine how hard it will be to find records of the 17 surgeries that have now been reported.  Think about how many abused women will be rushed onto airplanes and deported so they can’t bear witness. Then try to understand what it feels like to have undergone surgery that renders you unable to have a child because you are young, poor, and unwanted.

 

It boggles the mind, and makes you want to weep.

 

                                                                        # # #

 

Elayne Clift writes about women’s health from Saxtons River, Vt.  www.elayne-clift.com

 

 

 

 

 

“Keep your hands off my uterus!” That’s an often-repeated placard and plea at women’s marches I’ve attended over the past forty years. In the U.S. and abroad, it’s a common, continuing refrain because government sanctioning of abuse of women’s bodies has been occurring since well before the Second Wave women’s movement exposed it in the 1970s.

 

I worked in the women’s health movement then alongside Our Bodies, Ourselves and other national organizations. One of the myriad issues we dealt with was the sterilization of poor, black and brown women.  We helped raise awareness of the medical abuse of Puerto Rican women that resulted in a third of women of reproductive age being sterilized for decades at clinics often funded by the U.S. government. In the 1960s women in Puerto Rico were also the subjects of birth control pill trials, without their consent. Those who became pregnant on placebos were offered no help, financial or otherwise, and were forced to carry resulting pregnancies to term.  

 

Another frequent abuse women of color faced was the lack of real informed consent. It can hardly be considered consent when you are asked to sign a paper in English and your only language is Spanish, or you are asked by the nice doctor if you’d like to stop having babies after you’ve just endured a long, arduous labor.

 

There is a long, ugly history of abusing and using women’s bodies by way of coercion and for experimentation. Dr. J. Marion Sims, know as the father of gynecology, practiced medicine in Alabama from 1835 to 1849. During that time, he conducted hideous experiments, without any anesthesia, on enslaved women he had purchased in the 1840s. At an annual convention of the American Public Health Association in the late 1970s his portrait was still on display – until enraged women demanded that it be taken down and never shown again.

 

Affluent white women were often subjected to having their ovaries removed in the second half of the 19th century if they were deemed to be overly sexual. This practice coincided with the belief that if women used their minds too eagerly, their uteruses would atrophy, denying them the God-given role of child bearers.

 

Medical abuse was further embraced in the early 20th century when eugenics was popular, with the growth of programs that coerced women to be sterilized if they did not willingly consent. As Alexandra Stern, author of Eugenic Nation, points out, sterilization was viewed as part of a “necessary public health intervention aimed at protecting society from deleterious genes…” This mindset prevailed late into the century. My friend’s daughter, who was mentally impaired, was subjected to sterilization in the 1970s as part of her care plan.

 

Some states, like California, passed laws that resulted in thousands of residents being sterilized for decades (including some men). Even as late as 2010 the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation had sterilized 150 women in four years. Richard Nixon, a Californian, significantly increased Medicaid funding for sterilization of poor Americans with an emphasis on people of color.

 

Let us remember, medical historians remind us, that eugenics policies in the U.S. aimed at those considered too mentally defective to reproduce, are credited with becoming models for Nazi Germany.

 

One of the saddest stories of a black woman being sterilized during her childbearing years is that of civil rights activist, Fannie Lou Hamer. She had a hysterectomy without her consent in 1961 while undergoing minor surgery for removal of a benign tumor. She spoke about her experience as a Black woman who had been subjected to what was known as a “Mississippi appendectomy,” when women were taken to local clinics and sterilized.

 

Now comes Dawn Wooten, a courageous nurse, who revealed that women in an ICE detention center in Georgia, run by a private prison company, had an outside doctor perform hysterectomies on them when they complained about non-threatening reproductive health issues. Many of the women who experienced major surgery awoke to find that they had had their reproductive organs all or partially removed without their prior knowledge or consent. Most were still of childbearing age and most had no idea why they had undergone the procedure.

Pauline Binam, 30, was one of them. She was being quickly deported by ICE to Cameroon, which she left at age two. Binam, now 30, was on the tarmac when members of Congress including Rep. Shirley Jackson Lee intervened to keep her in the U.S.  Binam's lawyer has said her client thought she was getting a routine procedure last year, but "when she woke up from surgery, the doctor informed her that he had to remove one of her fallopian tubes."

Imagine how hard it will be to find records of the 17 surgeries that have now been reported.  Think about how many abused women will be rushed onto airplanes and deported so they can’t bear witness. Then try to understand what it feels like to have undergone surgery that renders you unable to have a child because you are young, poor, and unwanted.

 

It boggles the mind, and makes you want to weep.

 

                                                                        # # #

 

Elayne Clift writes about women’s health from Saxtons River, Vt. 

 

 

 

 

 

"Where is the Poor People's Voice?"

That was a question put to a TV reporter by Rev. William J. Barber II after the Democratic National Convention last month. Barber, founder of the Moral Monday movement and now a notable political activist, is President of Repairers of the Breach and co-chair of the Poor People's Campaign: A National Call for Moral Revival.  His is a voice and a vision to be reckoned with as he calls for concern grounded in morality for the poor and working poor.

 Why, Rev. Barber asks, are poor and low-income people never targeted in Democratic ads? Why are their issues never talked about, despite the fact that they are clearly a political force by virtue of the fact they represent an estimated 25 percent of people in this country?

 These were questions I also asked after the Democrat’s virtual convention. Why, I wondered, did we need to hear yet again from Bill Clinton, John Kerry and John Kasich?  Where was a real-life person of situational or generational poverty who could speak to the reality of their lives and their families’ struggles?

 Rev. Barber’s answer was that poor people are ignored because they don’t donate money to political campaigns, and they don’t vote. Why should they, Barber explains, when they feel invisible and not cared about? That’s a pretty damning statement about a party that claims to care about everyone, but can’t move beyond talking about the “middle class,” and (mainly) white working folks.

 It’s time for Dems to get it: When a quarter of Americans are poor or low-income workers who can’t make ends meet, can’t access healthcare or a decent education, and can’t make it through a pandemic it’s unacceptable to ignore or exclude them. We need to remember that poverty is not a dirty word. There is no reason to be afraid or ashamed of impoverished people as a constituency, no matter their race or ethnicity, but there is every reason to acknowledge that they exist as an underclass in one of the the world’s richest countries. As human beings they deserve the dignity and attention so readily proffered to other Americans.

 That calls for an increased awareness among political leaders, and the public, of the lives poor and low-income people live.

 Being poor and being in poverty are two different things, as Latonya Walker, a social worker in Detroit points out on her blog. While being poor is an economic state that involves dependency on a system of care, often for generations, poverty is a psychological mindset that derives from the situation one finds themselves in due to a life changing event. Divorce, illness, loss of work, or a death in the family can lead to homelessness, the need for government assistance, or generalized instability. If prolonged beyond one generation, it can be difficult to escape.

 The effects of generational poverty are chronic, resulting in continued low education levels, inadequate childcare, low workplace skills, health issues, high incarceration rates and high infant mortality rates. Homelessness and substance abuse also become chronic. It’s heartbreaking that a quarter of American children are living in low-income families that have at least one working parent who because of low hourly wages and few if any job benefits, like health insurance, paid sick or vacation leave, are unlikely to escape the effects of generational poverty.

 That’s why it’s important for political leaders to take a focused, holistic, and humane approach to well-funded public policies that address in practical and meaningful ways the need for improved, accessible education programs for both children and adults, universal healthcare, living wages, ending mass incarceration, and protecting voting rights. They could be helped in that effort by inviting the voices and the aspirations of poor people and people living in poverty to be heard and understood. In other words, they need to put a human face on the pressing issues of poverty so that they, and all Americans, can see those faces, learn from their experiences, appreciate the challenges of their lives, and act to relieve the constraints that keep them impoverished, afraid, and without hope for a better life. 

 The fact is, the poor and nearly poor are a formidable force and they are organizing to vote in this crucial election. They have the power to flip election results in more than a dozen states. It makes absolutely no sense to ignore them if the Democratic party is serious about economic security. If Democrats truly stand for morality and justice with the force and conviction that Rev. Barber does, they need to listen, and learn, from those who may inherit the earth in biblical terms, but who have precious little to be content with in these troubling times.

 As Rev. Barber says so eloquently, “Our deepest moral traditions point to equal protection under the law, the desire for peace within and among nations, the dignity of all people, and the responsibility to care for our common home.”

 

                                                            # # #

 

Elayne Clift writes from Saxtons River, Vt.  www.elayne-clift.com